


Janice's Super Secret (and Admittedly Forbidden) Journal

by Macremae



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Diary, F/F, Janice is a genius, Journal, Maureen has a sister, young lesbian love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journal of Janice Palmer-Carlsberg and her chronology of all things weird, one of those being herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. June 20, 2013

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter, who hoo! This one's kinda short because most first diary entries are. Any characters you'd like to see?

June 20th, 2013  
My name is Janice Palmer-Carlsberg, and I am writing this journal to not only chronicle my thoughts, but the strange (yet totally awesome) happenings of where I live: Night Vale. I got the idea from my Uncle Cecil's boyfriend, Carlos, who's a scientist studying all the "paranormal activity" in town. I guess it's kinda paranormal, but not in a bad way. We're just a special community! At least, that's what Uncle Cecil says on the radio.  
They came over last night for dinner. My stepdad (who I just call Dad) decided that, since Uncle Carlos nearly died thanks to a small, yet oddly vicious tiny army living beneath lane 5 of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, he should get to know him. Dad made lasagna and I helped! It was really good, probably because I swapped out the Parmesan container with the Alfredo when Dad wasn't looking. I don't get why he uses Parmesan, it not even that good. Anyway, Uncle Cecil and Uncle Carlos came for dinner at eight. My bedtime is 7:45, cause I'm ten (even though 7:45 is a completely unreasonable bedtime, as I have repeatedly told my parents!) so I got to stay up late!  
For some reason Uncle Carlos was still wearing lab coat. I don't know why, maybe it's a scientist thing? Uncle Cecil was staring daggers at Dad for almost the entire dinner. I don’t know the reason for that either. Maybe it’s because of something I didn’t see? Adults are weird.  
So Uncle Carlos was looking for a distraction from the silent war going on across the dinner table and asked me about school. I told him it was good, but kinda pointless seeing as I already knew pretty much everything I was being taught. The teachers have been talking about moving me up a grade, probably because I’m what Dad calls, “ intellectually gifted”. I think that just means I’m really smart. Anyway, I told him that and he said, “Oh”. Then he didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. Then, he asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. It kinda came out of nowhere, but luckily, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I told him I want to be an inventor. I want to make cool stuff that helps people, like a device that can instantly peel any fruit! I’m pretty sure John Peters, you know, the farmer? would like that one. Then I showed Uncle Carlos the boosters I installed on my wheelchair to make it go faster, and so I wouldn’t have to rely on people to push me around. He actually seemed pretty impressed! Then I told him about some of my other projects, and he told me about the tests he’d run on the fake bloodstones circulating around. It was awesome! I’ve told adults about my projects before, but that thought I was just “darling” and “cute” They never even took me seriously, but Uncle Carlos does! Maybe because he’s a scientist. And guess what? he told me that I’m already an inventor, which is a kind of scientist, and invited me to his lab the next day! I was super excited.  
After dinner finished and Dad did some of his impressions (which were terrible) I went to bed really excited about the next day.  
I dropped by Uncle Carlos’s lab around 11. He was mixing some stuff in a beaker, which looks a lot like the stuff that occasionally drips from Uncle Cecil’s tentacles. The ones that come out when he’s really mad. Uncle Carlos put some acid in the beaker, and there was a huge explosion! Luckily, he was wearing goggles and I was out of the way. I helped him in the lab for a couple of hours, and we figured out that Uncle Cecil’s tentacles’ secretion (that’s what Uncle Carlos called them) turn lavender and corrosive when mixed with salt. It was really neat! Before I left, Uncle Carlos gave me this journal. He said that a scientist needs to write her discoveries down, and a young age was the best time for humans to develop habits.  
So here I am! I plan to write down my findings as often as I can. Maybe I’ll unknowingly collect clues to a big mystery and defeat the forces of evil, like in my favorite municipally approved book series: Bella Becker’s Detective Diary! Or not. I dunno. I’m not really sure about a lot of things, like why all the interns at the radio station keep mysteriously disappearing or dying, or why socks get lost in the dryer. Maybe, one day, I’ll find out.


	2. June 6, 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some trouble with wheat and it's by-product, and Janice makes a discovery.

July 6th, 2013  
Dear Diary,  
Today was one of those days when you really just wanna punch something. It started out simply enough: I get up, have breakfast, Dad goes off to work at his sports store and possibly gamble with his stupid friends, and the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Our Home (whose name from this point onward will be abbreviated as FOWWSLIOH so as to save my hands) leaves tomato paste in the upstairs bathtub to greet the day. It was a Saturday, so I had nothing to do. Luckily (or so I thought) I found some banana bread mix in the pantry, right next to the strange lamp that whistles and hops from 9 am to 1 pm every other Wednesday. We had some bananas left and a little bit of yeast so I set about making the bread. I had just taken it out of the oven when, out of nowhere, 17 sentient and walking bananas jumped out of the loaf!  
They started running all over the house, spurting mashed up banana insides everywhere. I tested the bread with my Little Nuclear Physicists Chemistry Set, and it turns out the mix I had used had small traces of wheat. So now I was faced with several crazed bananas running all over my house and making a huge mess, and the fact that I had better cover this up fast, or else I would be quarantined. And so, my glorious Saturday was spent corralling all 47 bananas (yes, the little harlems multiplied), cleaning up the splattered banana paste all over the house, and disposing of the wheat-tainted banana bread in the proper ritualistic sacrifice. Luckily the amount of wheat was small enough that I wasn’t attacked, but it still sucked.  
A more pressing matter is what I found while digging through the attic after all the chaos was over: a box, heavily taped up and marked “Do Not Open”. Naturally, I opened it. Inside was a laptop. And not just any laptop, but a Windows one, from the outside world! All computers here in Night Vale are made by Bloodstone Industries, and are heavily censored by the Sheriff's Secret Police, so to find one from outside of town is just fantastic! I booted it up and was shown a desktop similar to the Bloodstone In. ones, but different somehow. For one thing it didn't have the NVSSP logo plastered all over the screen, and there weren't any “hidden” cameras. There was iTunes, Google Chrome, Internet Explorer, and Paint.net already loaded on it. I probably spent the rest of the day on that laptop, just checking out an uncensored web. It. Is Amazing! So much knowledge at one’s fingertips… it’s nuts! . I’ve learned more from one afternoon spent online then in all Kindergarten through 7th grade combined!  
I have to keep this a secret though. If anyone found out about this laptop it could be confiscated, and I sent for re-education. I’ve never gone before and I don’t plan too, so I can’t tell anyone, not even Dad. Especially not Dad, he’d just take it away to use for his Great Conspiracy Chart research, and I definitely do not want that. I’m gonna go get in a little more web time before Dad gets back from work. I've not only discovered tons of interesting information about science and history and all that stuff, but some very compelling TV shows as well. Apparently there are these things called “fandoms” which are big groups of people who like the same source of media. I think I’d like to join one of these “fandoms”, just as an experiment. There’s this show called Supernatural that looks kinda cool, and a lot of the stuff I see in Night Vale would blend right in! I wonder if I can use that to my advantage when writing “fan-fiction”.


	3. July 11, 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The laptop reveals some odd information, and Janice gets a letter.

July 11, 2013  
Dear Diary,  
Finding that laptop got me thinking. I mean, I do that a lot. Any living and sentient human being thinks. It’s a part of life.  
But anyway I was thinking about what I found while on that laptop. From what I can gather, Night Vale is pretty unique. Other towns don’t have a Sheriff's Secret Police, or a FOWWSLIYH, or a five headed dragon (or any dragons for that matter). Their libraries also appear to be places of learning and calm, and not horrible death traps from which no one returns. And the librarians are, apparently, pretty nice and helpful! All this stuff is commonplace everywhere. Well, everywhere but here. And now I wonder why. I mean, are we cursed? Is there some sort of weird paranormal energy that is constantly settled over town? I don’t know, and while not knowing is okay sometimes, it’s not okay now.  
Over the past few days there have been a couple more deaths than usual, and I’m starting to wonder why Dad even lives here in the first place, or anyone for that matter! I love my town, don’t get me wrong, it’s just...I’m starting to wonder why everyone seems to take this stuff in stride. Shouldn’t the almost monthly death of an intern at the radio station raise some kind of alarm? I know I’m not supposed to think like this (which is probably exactly why Dad does) but I don’t understand.  
I’ve found exactly one town other than here, Desert Bluffs, and Pine Cliff that seems to be out of the ordinary: this little place up in Oregon whose name I forget. I think it was called Depravity Smalls or something? It was from this blog post made by two kids detailing how to kill a manticore, and also high survival knitting for some reason. Either way, I’m gonna try and contact them using the laptop. Maybe they have some answers.  
Speaking of Pine Cliff, my friend Claire, who lives there, sent me a letter today. I’m gonna paste it here:

Dear Janice,  
Hi! How are things going in Night Vale? I got the lead in my community play. It’s Romeo and Juliet, and guess who is Romeo? Matt Parson! I literally cannot believe my luck! He’s soooo cute! And I get to kiss him! I’ll bet you’d like him too. He has the cutest brown eyes and floppy blonde hair. I bet he’s such a good kisser. Oswin Peatlus is so jealous; she turned beet red when the cast list was posted. I wish you could come see it. The opening night is September 2nd.   
I also got the new Destiny: the Dark Below. It’s okay, the raid, strike missions are pretty fun, but the story missions are waaay too short. Maybe if you visit we can play multiplayer!   
More weird stuff has happened too. Just two days ago a herd of giant snails came through! They stole six jugs of milk from the Publix, a box of nails from Hermy’s Hardware, and a copy of Mario Kart Double Dash. Plus their leader was telepathic.   
I’m really excited ‘cause my family is gonna take a trip to New York City next week! We’re gonna see a production of Roger and Hammerstein's Cinderella, a bunch of cool monuments, and even go up to the top of the Empire State Building! It’s gonna be really great! Are you going on any vacations this summer? Write back soon!  
XXX,  
Claire

Okay, Claire is nice and whatnot, but there are a couple things that kinda irked me. Firstly, no, Claire I am not going on any vacations this summer. I have to stay here because leaving town on an “extravagant trip” apparently isn’t in the budget! Gee I wonder why? Maybe it’s because you make half of our money through stupid gambling Dad! If he sucked it up and just worked full time at the sports store that he happens to own then maybe it would be in the budget! It’s times like this that I hate child labor laws. Dad and I actually could do with the money I would get from working. And he’s probably not gonna let me work until I’m 18! And don’t even get me started on driving, even though I’ve already invented a custom Neuroband Driver so that I can. It’s this headband that you wear and plug into the car through a USB cable, and it converts your brainwaves into directions to speed up, slow down, stop, etc. This way people who can’t move their legs, like me, can still drive!   
My big problem is that Dad sometimes acts like I can’t do anything, but really the opposite is true! Heck, I bet I could make more money is one week than what he makes in a month!  
The other thing that kinda ticks me off is the fact that Claire is “so sure” that I’ll like this Matt guy! I mean, what if I don’t? What he’s not my type? Or what if I’m not even into boys? It’s perfectly possible I could like girls. I don’t exactly know, I haven't even hit puberty yet. I haven’t felt any romantic attraction to anyone, but that’s probably the puberty thing. I’m probably too young to be thinking about this, but the fact that Uncle Cecil and Uncle Carlos are now dating just got me thinking about it. I’ve been online some more, and it turns out people outside aren’t nearly as accepting of homosexuals are we are in Night Vale. I guess with all the crazy and life-threatening stuff that goes on here most people don’t find two people of the same gender being together that world shattering. And why would they honestly? It’s two people, in love. They just happen to share the same chromosome. I honestly cannot fathom why this is such a big deal.   
Well, that was heated. I’ve been feeling kinda cranky the past day or so. Maybe it’s because of the Glow Cloud.


	4. July 14, 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow beings attack the town, and Janice, of course, does something.

Oh. My. Beams.

The last thing I honestly want to do right now is to sit down and write, but I need to record all this before I forget. I just wanna sleep though! It's 11:30. 11:30!! DAD is asleep right now, it's so late! Yet here I am, writing. I think Uncle Carlos's habit of not sleeping that much is starting to rub off on me.

Anyway, today has been 100%, without a doubt, crazy, and not the normal tidal-waves-of-corn-muffins-or-objects-that-start-with-the-letter-e-becoming-sentient-and-running-amok-crazy, I mean actual full level panic. Dear gods, where do I even begin.

The day even started stressful. As I was eating breakfast, Dad told me that I should start thinking about my birthday party since it's coming up next month. I'm turning ten, double digits and an even number, so Dad is really hoping I'll say I want a party just so he can "prove how good of a father figure he is". No chance in the underworld. The last time I had a party he forced me and my 7th grade class of apathetic and snickering pre-teens to sit around and basically do nothing at the bowling alley for two straight hours. To top it all off, Tamika fricking Flynn has the gall to show up last minute and lead everyone off to her private pool.

God I hate Tamika Flynn. She's like a real life Regina George, but black. And possibly even richer. The story goes that her grandad struck oil out in the desert a few decades back and now her family is loaded.

I hate her so freaking much, and the worst part is that she's the only person in my grade who's even acknowledged my existence! I'm at least three years younger than anyone in my class, but six years more mature. This creates a toxic mix of people either treating me like a child, or ignoring me. Tamika has chosen the classic route of making my life miserable any way she can. There's no reason, she just does it cause she's a jerk. The problem with having an IQ of 207 is that, yeah you're smart, but you're also pretty lonely. That's what I want for my birthday: a friend. But since when do birthday wishes ever come true? Gimme a break.

Back to the day's toils now: I kinda messed around on the laptop for a few hours before polishing off my summer homework. Then I just strapped rockets to fruit and launched them into orbit from the backyard. NASA should find that sight interesting. By dinner time Dad still wasn't home yet, so I walked up the street to Big Ricos to get myself dinner. It took me .333 seconds after I entered the shop to discover how bad of an idea that was.

Everyone there had somehow turned into a strange, buzzing shadow entity, and immediately turned to look at me. I was pretty sure it wasn't my new red wheelchair. "Crap." I said softly. I then slowly turned around, careful not to make any sudden movements, and wheeled myself out the door.

Big mistake.

The entire restaurant went nuts, buzzing and screeching. I had a five second head start, which wasn't that good, but when you're in a chair, you take what you can get. The closest building was Uncle Carlos's lab right next door, which I quickly wheeled into and slammed the door shut.

My chair was pretty heavy, so I braced it against the door. The shadow whatevers hissed and clawed at it, but thankfully gave up after a few minutes. Now I was faced with a conundrum. I was currently trapped inside the Lab with no visible means of escape, the highly likely possibility that Dad had been turned into a shadow person as well, and I still hadn't had dinner.

I stopped. I surveyed. I assessed the situation.

Bits of shadow being discharge were strewn about the lab, most likely from when the other scientists had been turned too. Uncle Carlos wasn't there, still out on his date with Uncle Cecil, and they might have been caught as well. There was also the pressing issue of me having no idea what to do next.

After muttering a few choice words I had heard Dad say while gambling, I started thinking. I could use something to my advantage. Probably. And then it hit me like a freight train: FIND A CURE FOR THE SHADOW WHATEVERS DUMBASS! If I could come up with a basic chemical formula for the shadow essence, then maybe a counter formula could be created to reverse the effects! I quickly pulled on some latex gloves, pushed some shadow essence into a beaker, and got to work.

About twenty minutes later I was no closer than when I started. The shadow discharge didn't seem to react to anything, not even acid! I was about to throw something at the wall when I heard a noise that made my heart almost stop: the slow creak of an opening door.

And then I realized; I had forgotten to lock myself in. Now I was toast, at the mercy of whatever shadow being was currently entering the lab, and I hadn't even found a cure yet! The door slammed shut, I heard a body slump against it, and a series of shallow, rapid breathes. And then, in a voice that gave an audible crack while doing so, came a breathy, elated whoop.

What.

I spun my chair around to see none other than UNCLE CARLOS LEANING AGAINST THE DOOR WITH THE DELIRIOUSLY DOPEY EXPRESSION OF SOMEONE WHO HAD JUST BEEN RIGHTFULLY SNOGGED. I allowed him exactly 0.5 seconds of reflection upon this momentous event before clearing my throat pointedly. 

He blinked, started, and then formed his mouth into a very large O. 

"Janice?!" He asked incredulously, "What the heck are you doing in the lab?!"

"It wasn't locked." I stated simply. "Plus there's that bit about a herd of malevolent shadow beings outside. How did you get past them by the way?" Uncle Carlos got a very funny look on his face, then sighed and said, "Cecil crashed into a few and scared the others away.”

“Ah. Well could you help me? I got a sample of the shadow thing and I’m trying to find a way to counteract it.” Uncle Carlos stared at me for a good ten seconds. He then sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and came over to see what I had done so far. I think he realized that, as crazy as the stuff in town is, its the little things that drive you nuts. 

Of course with Uncle Carlos we discovered what was wrong in almost no time at all. Which actually could be taken literally considering where I live. We found out that each shadow thing vibrates at the same incredibly high frequency. This frequency changes humans into shadow beings. If they are exposed to an opposite frequency, then the change can be reversed. 

So I set up some subwoofers around town and hooked them up to some portable radios while Uncle Carlos snuck into the radio station and broadcasted the opposite frequency. Everything went surprisingly according to plan! It was kinda nice for a change to have no hidden variables or faulty materials that ruined everything. 

As I made my way back to my house, there were a lot more unconscious bodies in the street than usual, but that was probably a side effect of the transformation back into a human. Dad was passed out on the floor so I threw him on the couch and went to go brush my teeth. The water was purple again. Maybe we should call a plumber.


	5. August 14, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer reading program wrecks havoc, but brings unexpected good along with it.

Dear Diary,  
You know how a lot of insane things happen when you least expect it? And then you get a huge paradigm shift? Yeah well that happened. It's been a few days since I escaped from the summer reading program, and everything hurts. What hurts even more is my brain, that due to one Tamika Flynn. EVERYTHING I KNOW IS APPARENTLY WRONG AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FEEL. I mean, who knew that the Summer Reading Program would have me end up with an extremely unexpected best friend? I sure didn’t! And yet, and fracking yet, here I am with said attribute and the beginnings of a militia! 

I didn’t want to be in the Summer Reading Program. Even Dad knows it’s insanely dangerous, what with the librarians and all. However, Mom was apparently not instructed on the horrific tales of said creatures, because she signed me up for it a few weeks ago!

“You’ll meet other kids who like municipally approved books, it’ll be fun!” she said. “You need to make some friends Janice, introversion doesn’t suit you.” she said. 

Of course it suits me! I like being alone. Also, counterpoint, how can I make friends if I’m dead?! But Mom refused to listen to reason. Thus, in the heat of summer, I stood shaking outside the doors of the Night Vale Public Library in as much combat gear as I could find. I had two knives tucked into the pockets of my wheelchair, another in the seat’s padding, and a twelve gauge shotgun hidden in the secret pocket I have in my jacket.

Unfortunately, I arrived just as Tamika Flynn was as well. She was dressed for combat, if Barbie went off to war that is. Her hair was tied back with a pink scrunchie, and she wore a lilac tank top with cargo pants and a moto jacket. She even had the gall to wear combat boots. I gave her five minutes to last, tops. She didn’t even look armed. 

Tamika looked at me with distaste, and smirked when she saw my tail, unfortunately unprotected. Armor just wasn’t made for mermaids. Joke was on her, I was ten times more prepared. 

When about fifteen kids had gathered, there was a hissing sound, and the rotting wooden doors slowly swung open. I gulped. This was the easy way in. If I ran away, I would be taken into the library by force, and my chance of survival would decrease dramatically. Taking a deep breath, I wheeled myself into the thick darkness. 

Everything was pitch black, and I could barely see my hand in front of my face. A dank, rotting smell filled the building, the unmistakable stench of librarians. I could hear a few kids whimpering, but they soon stopped and scuttled off to hide. 

The library was deadly quiet. Too quiet. The librarians were obviously trying to lure us into a false sense of security, then devour us when we dropped our guard. Well I wasn’t going to fall for their tricks. I headed straight for the adult section and hurriedly got my Summer Reading List out of my side pocket. The first book on it was The Compound. Easy. 

Looking around to make sure no librarians were nearby, I snuck past the computer area to the YA section. There I searched the shelves until I found Bodeen, S and pulled out the first copy. I then shoved the book into my pocket and hurried to the children’s section. There, I started to build a barricade of beanbags and couches. 

It took a while, but I finally constructed a suitable place to hide out until I had completed my Summer Reading List. Only when each child had finished their list could the bell at the help desk be rung. The sound would open the library doors and allow us to escape. 

My plan was to knock out my list, then help everyone who was still alive finish theirs. The only hitch was how the bell would be rung. Wheelchairs aren’t really built for speed. I would cross that bridge when I came to it though. Pushing, the thought out of my mind, I settled down to start on The Compound.

However, I had barely read the first sentence when I heard a scream coming from a few aisles away.

Now I had a dilemma. I had promised myself not to help anyone until I needed to. Too much assistance and the librarians would be all over me. Yet, I just couldn’t ignore the screams for help. Maybe it was the somewhat sympathetic part of me (however tiny it was), but for whatever reason I sighed, shoved the book back into my pocket, and sped down the back of the aisles to where I heard the sound.

I immediately regretted this choice when I saw who was screaming: Tamika Flynn. The last person I wanted to help. Unfortunately, I had chosen to make my way around the back of the shelves, and was now behind her, cornered by a librarian. Crap.

Tamika turned around, startled to see me. 

“Janice?” she asked, shocked. “What are you doing here?” “Well I was going to save your sorry life, but, on second thought…” Tamika’s eyes widened. “You? How in the beams could someone like you possibly save anyone?” The prick even had the gall to giggle. 

Now normally, I would be thoroughly pissed, but this was slightly different. The way I think about it, life presents you with opportunities. It’s your choice whether or not to take them. And right then, life had just presented me with an opportunity to both show, and shut, Tamika Flynn up. I grinned. I might actually enjoy this. I thought.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty big stereotype of kids in wheelchairs.” I began as I sneakily slid my knife out from beneath the seat skin of my chair. “They think that we’re weak, and helpless. They think we can’t defend ourselves. They think we can’t even hurt them. However,” I continued as I scooted in front of Tamika, “the thing about kids in wheelchairs,” the librarian lunged for me, “is that you should never,” I swung the knife, “ever,”, the blade cut through the librarian’s neck and sliced the head clean off, “piss us off”. I watched, satisfied as the head tumbled to the ground. 

I turned back to look at Tamika after studying my work for a minute. I was expecting something along the lines of, “Big talk from such a loser.” or “Wow, I’m soooo impressed.”, but what I saw caught me completely off guard. Tamika was crying. Real actual tears! They were pooling in the corners of her eyes and trickling slowly down her face.

“So this is how it is,” she said shakily, “these things attack us, and if we don’t kill them, we’ll die?” “Yep.” I said bluntly. Tamika cleared her throat. “Well then,” she said, voice steady now, “it appears I’ll have to adjust my strategy”. 

And in that moment, something changed. An unspoken agreement passed between us, that there would be no more fighting. We had to work together if we wanted to survive this. The Barbie doll gloves had come off. This was life now, cold and deadly. And if we wanted to live, we would have to become that way too. That librarian attack had changed Tamika. No more snittyness, no more sheltered privilage. She would have to really think if she was going to get out of this.

“Do you have any spares?” Tamika asked, looking at my knife. I pulled one out of my side pocket and handed it to her. She nodded a silent thanks, and then did something that, yet again, surprised me.

Gripping her long hair, she hacked and sawed with the knife until all that was left was a thin, coarse, curly layer of hair reaching down to the nape of her neck in a boyish style. The remnants of her lengthy locks lay, caked with dried librarian blood, on the slimy, carpeted floor.

“Do you have a camp or anything?” she asked me, drawing my attention back to her. “Yeah, a few aisles down.” Spinning my chair around, I led Tamika to my makeshift hovel of couches and chairs.

“Any supplies?” I asked while looking at the Reading List she had handed me. “Yeah, I managed to pack some canned stuff before I left. We can open it with the knife.” “Excellent.” I said. “You’re also in luck. The first book on your list is Anne of Green Gables, and that’s in this section.”

I quickly explained the Dewey Decimal system to Tamika and sent her off to find the book. By the time she got back I’d already finished the first chapter of The Compound. Without a word, Tamika settled down beside me and tucked into the book.

The days flew by in a blur of librarian blood and books. Some kids caught word of our partnership and migrated to the Children’s Section. There Tamika discovered that books and their themes, ideas, plot, e.t.c., could be used as weapons against librarians. We trained in literature, consuming character traits and opinions, settings and main ideas. By the time that three weeks had passed, and a huge number of kids, some taken into the library by force, had amassed at our camp. We conducted raids on the librarian break room, slaughtered as many as we can, and foraged for supplies.  
One day, Tamika pulled me aside from reading If I Should Die Before I Wake to some younger kids . “Janice,” she said, “I think we’re almost ready. Once you finish up with those kids, all the lists will be complete.” “Really?” I asked, a note of joy creeping into my voice. “Yep, all done. We just need a strategy on how to reach the bell at the help desk.” “I think you should do it.” I told her.” Tamika looked taken aback. “Me?” she asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re ridiculously fast. Because every kid in this library looks up to you, even the older ones. Because, like it or not Tamika, you’re the leader now.” Tamika looked touched, even teary eyed. “You really think so?” “Stop crying and let me read, hell yeah I think so.”

So I finished the book. After I reported back, Tamika called in all scouting parties and kids.

“Everyone, all the Summer Reading Lists are complete. We can now plan our escape!” A cheer went up among the masses. “I need you all to distract the librarians while I ring the bell. Once that is done, we all are free!” A cheer once again. After they'd all quieted down, Tamika laid out her plan. 

The kids would be split up into five groups. Each would hold off the librarians, with the more experienced fighters closest to the help desk, while Tamika ran for the bell. Once it was rung, everyone would make a break for it.

I was put in charge of the first regiment, the one closest to the desk. When the time came to head out, I felt queasy. I didn’t know if I was one of the people who would make it out. Tamika gave the signal, and we rushed the librarian’s stronghold. 

Immediately, a pack of them swarmed us. I sliced the head off of one, and shouted themes from Call of the Wild at another. Leah spouted main ideas of The Two Towers, while I decapitated two librarians that were overwhelming Tommy. Another rushed at me from the left, and I gave a character analysis of Black Beauty to ward it off. 

All around me, I heard shouts of literature analysis that would make any teacher cry tears of joy. William backed me up with a stuttered summary of The Scarlet Letter, then sliced off two librarian torsos.

Suddenly, the sound of a bell rang through the carnage. With a wild cry, sixty-five starving, bloody children raced toward the open library doors. I grabbed Tamika’s hand and joined the swarm as she dragged me along sprinting to freedom. 

The bright sunlight was almost blinding. I heard crying, some of joy that their children were safe, and others for ones that would never come home. Dad was waiting for me.

“Hey kiddo. Nice job.” he said, smiling proudly. There were tears in his eyes as well. Mom was, of course, not there. 

“Thanks Dad,” I replied, “but can I talk to someone real quick before we go?” He nodded and I wheeled myself over to where Tamika was standing with her mother.

“Hey, we did it.” I said, grinning. “Yeah,” she replied, “we did.” Her expression then darkened. “Janice, this isn’t the worst thing you know. We both have seen what’s coming from the mandated prophetic dreams.” I nodded. Yellow helicopters streaming from the sky, blood soaked people and angels battling. “You’re right. We need a plan.” Tamika smiled. “I was thinking of starting a book club, and I could use a second in command. You in?” It was my turn again to smile. “Yeah,” I said, “I’m in.”


	6. October 12, 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Take Your Child to Work Day in Night Vale, but Janice tags along with her Uncle Cecil instead. However, while at the radio station, a mysterious power outage brings an unexpected opportunity.

Dear Diary,  
Jeez, has it really been that long since I’ve written? Well I suppose that’s to be expected. Between the start of 8th grade and training the Book Club with Tamika, I’ve been really busy. Luckily I don’t have any homework tonight and Tamika’s swamped, so no training. Which is honestly kinda nice. If I have to yell at Bradley one more time for messing around with knives, he will not be a happy camper. 

We got the day off from school yesterday for the annual Take Your Child to Work Day. As per usual, Dad couldn’t bring me along. Thus, I had possessed the foresight a few years back to put Uncle Cecil’s phone number on speed dial for the home phone. That way, when Dad inevitably made the excuse of “just doing some box moving today, not a lot of fun” so he could gamble during his break, I could tag along with Uncle Cecil and watch him do his show. 

When Dad left that morning I made a beeline for the landline on the kitchen wall and pressed the call button for my uncle’s cell phone. I had learned quickly to listen for the sound of the other line picking up, so as to prevent a “Steve Carlsberg that better not be you calling in for my show!” from greeting my ears. Seriously, what is up with Uncle Cecil’s hatred of Dad? 

When the other end beeped to signify Uncle Cecil had picked up the phone I immediately said, “Hi Uncle Cecil! This is Janice. Uh, so as you probably know today is Take Your Kid to Work Day, and Dad couldn’t take me. Do you think I could maybe watch you do your show again please?” 

The line was silent for a few seconds, until Uncle Cecil said,  
“Janice, could I put you on hold for a second?" He was obviously pissed about the whole Dad thing. I knew the drill. “Okay, sure.” I replied. Of course, Uncle Cecil forgot to put the phone on hold before setting it down on some surface and going into a three minute long rant about Dad. It kinda sucked hearing all the stuff Uncle Cecil didn’t like about him, but I was used to it. 

What was really nuts was how crazy he went when Dad called into the Mayoral Debate two nights ago. I’ve never heard him so pissed! Also, Marcus Vansten is an angel now. I don’t really care. Everyone in this town is nuts, the mayoral election is just a big coverup for the dystopian dictatorship I happen to live in. 

Anyway, back to the day’s events. After his rant was finished Uncle Cecil picked up the phone and told me he’d be there in about twenty minutes. That left me just enough time to take care of another problem: the leftovers of Dad’s poker party last night. There were pizza boxes strewn about the living room floor, chips tucked in couch cushions and carpet, and a general messiness that I knew would make Uncle Cecil blow a gasket.

So I spent the entirety of that precious twenty minutes hurriedly tidying up the living room. By the time the doorbell rang it didn’t look too bad, but I decided not to encourage Uncle Cecil to enter the house. 

He was there when I answered the door, impeccable dress shirt, slacks, suspenders and some form of tie. Today it was one of the bow variety, with little Eldritch abominations as the design. This was just his "work outfit" though. Usually he wore pretty much anything, from dresses to peasant blouses, to furry pants. 

I got to ride shotgun, as I’m technically old enough by Night Vale standards. I found out that in the real world, you have to be either twelve years old, or eighty pounds at least to sit in the front, so that’s one point in my town’s favor.

On the drive to the studio I was able to deduce three things by giving Uncle Cecil’s car a glance-over: it had been vacuumed a few days ago, he was dropping off some dry-cleaning later, and apparently he and Uncle Carlos had partaken in some interesting activities in the backseat of the vehicle last night. Yeah, I know about the birds and the bees. Sue me.

Uncle Cecil was humming along to some AC DC song I didn’t recognize as he drove, and let’s just say that HE SHOULDN’T EVEN HUM. I know Uncle Carlos finds it cute and endearing, but Uncle Cecil really can’t sing to save his life. 

When we got to the station Daniel, the biomech sent by the new station management, StrexCorp, was waiting in the booth. I saw his eyes light up as they scanned me, collecting data from some cache of information that was probably stored in his mechanical brain. I could have sworn I heard him say something about errors and data not matching, but that was probably just a glitch in the matrix. He handed the news of the day to Uncle Cecil and returned to the booth. 

“Okay, so you know the drill right?” he asked me while setting up the broadcasting equipment. “Yep,” I replied, “no talking while you’re on air, don’t press any suspicious buttons, and if anyone tries to bring Furby amulets in again, chant the counterspell.” “Perfect.” Uncle Cecil said with a grin. “Also, if you see that Intern Dana has texted me again from the desert otherworld, just hand me the phone, and don’t touch the screen unless you want to make the offering of blood when we leave.” 

I nodded, and glanced at Daniel again. I could have sworn he was staring at me. Creepy.

I heard the crackle of audio as Uncle Cecil plugged in the mic transmitter, and wheeled myself over to flick on the On Air sign. He usually forgot to do that. Maybe that explained why lots of people kept coming into the studio from time to time, especially during that Debate.

In fact, a few more words on said Debate before I continue. During the broadcast, a portal opened that, from the description, sounded a lot like the many black, swirling portals that opened during the sandstorm last year. However, it wasn’t the portal itself that had freaked me out. It was who Hiram McDaniels came back with: Kevin, Uncle Cecil's double and Desert Bluffs counterpart. 

Most of the town’s memory had been wiped of the incident, but I managed to avoid re-education concerning the sandstorm that had produced doubles last year. I didn't get to meet mine. However, I did hear Kevin. I remember him coming into the station from Desert Bluffs and talking about smiling and work. He noted how bloodless the studio was, how bare it was of viscera and carnage. Something tells me that Desert Bluff isn’t exactly Ponyville. 

Kevin rubbed me the wrong way. There was something that seemed very off with him, especially during his little interlude in the debate. The way he talked about productivity, and how Intern Vanessa had been dead for years. Especially the comment about his eyes. I assumed that intern Vanessa is Intern Dana's double, who she killed during the Sandstorm's events. But that was less than a year ago. Why would Kevin say that Vanessa had been dead for years? Unless... No I don't even want to consider that, much less write it.

Back to the story. After I switched on the sign, Uncle Cecil gathered up all his notes, flicked on the mike and began the show. I had actually helped him pick out the opener from a thing I found on the Supernatural tag on tumblr, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Mary had a little lamb, its heart was black as coal. It crept into her room one night and ate her little soul.

"Welcome to Night Vale"

And thus he began. I kind of just sat and listened to what was going on: another campaign statement by the Faceless Old Women Who Secretly Lives in Our Homes, a few other old oak doors found in the desert, and the invisible psychic gorilla that can invade our minds escaping from the zoo.

Then, just before Uncle Cecil was about to put on The Weather, the lights in the studio began to flicker. The mic appeared to still be on, but suddenly we were plunged into total darkness. I could see that Daniel’s power was out as well.

“Listeners, something very odd has happened. The power in the studio has gone out, including that of Daniel in the booth and the security cameras, yet my microphone remains on. How odd. Well, as Janice and I attempt to sort out this issue, let us go now, to the Weather.”

He flicked off the mic and pressed play on the day’s report. Then he turned to me. “Okay,” Uncle Cecil said, rubbing his hands together, “I learned a bit about electrical engineering from Boy Scouts, and I know you have your badge from Girl Scouts, so let’s see what we can do. Can you take a look at the panel in the booth? I’ll go ask management to get some assistance.” 

I nodded and made my way into the booth, pushing the "unconscious" Daniel out of the way with my tail. The panel wasn’t broken apparently, the power source had just been cut off. But how had the mic remained on? I guess that’s just Night Vale being Night Vale. I opened the panel and set about reconnecting the various wires to the mainframe. It was child’s play really. By the time I had finished poking around a bit more (and discovering a sinister looking patch of hair that I dared not touch) the Weather was almost over. And still no sign of Uncle Cecil.

I waited a few more minutes, but when the Weather finished I had no clue what to do. I couldn’t let the show continue with dead air, could I? So I tentatively wheeled myself over, flipped back on the microphone, and began to speak.

“Uh, hello? Hi everyone, this is Janice. Uncle Cecil went to get help for the electricity, but I managed to turn the power back on. Still don’t know what caused the outage though… Anyway, he’s not back yet, so I’m just gonna keep on going while I wait, if that’s okay with you guys? Right.

So, the Night Vale Educational Board would like to announce that, because of the school’s sudden haunting by a bloodthirsty, vengeful spirit, all students of Night Vale Elementary will be moved into trailers until Winter Break that are haunted by several less bloodthirsty and vengeful spirits. Kinda sounds counterproductive if you ask me. When asked why they couldn’t just give the kids a week off and take care of the spirit then, the school board replied in unison, 

‘Do you know how hard an exorcism is? You have to set up all the runes, and find just the right kind of peanut butter. It takes forever, and is like, really really hard. Trailers are just easier.’ The school board then disappeared in a puff of blue, lemony, smoke, and left six kittens behind on the press stage. The Glow Cloud (ALL HAIL) was reached for comment, and in response, turned a lovely shade of green. 

‘HE WHO MAKES THE WATER AND LEAVES SHALL NOT PERSEVERE. THE SUNLIGHT FROM WHICH WE TAKE LIFE HAS BECOME THE ENEMY OF US ALL. GATHER YOUR YOUNG AND TEACH THEM TO ROLLER SKATE IN PREPARATION. BELIEVE IN YOUR OWN MORTALITY, NOT THAT OF A SMILING GOD.’

The reporters then all began vomiting orange milk, and left the scene. It is not yet known where the trailers will be located, when the move will commence, and if class schedule will continue as normal.

Okay, listeners, I need to pause the news real quick. You know what the Glow Cloud (ALL HAIL) said about the sunlight and the Smiling God? Well, if you’ve been keeping up with your weekly prophetic dream schedule, then we all should have dreamed of a terrible darkness that is both all consumingly black, yet blindingly bright. The light is coming from a set of pearly white teeth, which are smiling. Our town is covered in blood, and not-angels and men and women dressed in smart business suits covered in blood are fighting tooth and nail for Night Vale. I do not yet know what this means, but I do know this: something is coming, and we are not ready. We have endured sandstorms and tiny army invasions, and a slew of other bad stuff, but this is more terrible than anything we’ve ever faced before. We must be ready Night Vale. 

If you are between the ages of seven and eighteen, then I suggest joining Tamika Flynn’s book club. We meet weekdays after school in the sand wastes near the Small Wooden Shack. I could really-"

Suddenly I heard the faintest of footsteps from outside the door. "Uh oh." I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I think Uncle Cecil is back. I need to go, but remember listeners: be ready. Please don't tell him I was on the air, I think he'd be mad! I have to go, so bye for now."

My timing was impeccable, as the moment I had wheeled myself away from the desk and flicked off the mic, Uncle Cecil walked in. "I fixed the power." I told him quickly. "Oh that's why I saw lights on. Management wasn't any help; no surprise there. Great job Janice, that badge was well earned! "

"Thanks," I said grinning, "but the Weather just ended so..." "Oh crud." he muttered, and slid into the desk chair while simultaneously turning the mic back on with surprising dexterity. 

"Good news listeners: Janice fixed the power! Sorry to keep you waiting, but on the upside, the psychic gorilla has been apprehended and returned to the zoo."

Uncle Cecil continued with the broadcast, but my mind was focused on what I had just done. If anybody squealed, I would be in huge trouble. I had meant what I said though.

StrexCorp gives me a bad feeling, and can't help but just know that something very, very wrong is about to go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a next day chapter! Quick thing: I just recently started watching Merlin, and I'm open to fic prompts. Any Merther is a plus!


	7. October 15, 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl scout meeting provides Janice with helicopter education, and a chance for sabotage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I had spring exams and a vacation to SC. The travel time did give me a chance to write though, so this chapter is my longest yet. I will be taking a short hiatus on JSSaAFJ so as to publish and complete another Night Vale fic: The Rhythm of Rebellion, so keep an eye out for that. After that is finished, this fic will resume shortly.

Dear Diary,

Today was the first meeting of the Girl Scouts of Night Vale’s 2013-2014 season. I joined troop 666 last year, and I’m already up to the rank of a Moan Scout! I tried to get Tamika to join this year, but she and her moms were out of town when signup was due. 

That’s okay though, ‘cause I made friends with Patricia Johnson at the clothing swap at the beginning of the meeting. She had a ton of cool band shirts, even some really obscure ones like The Bad First Impressions, The White Tie Affair, and Triple the Trouble. I traded a flower crown of venus fly traps for a Train biker-tank.

Anyway, after the swap started everything off, Troop Leader and High Priestess of the Allness Daisy led us all out from the rec center to the Scrublands. There, a row of two dozen helicopters was situated. Today we would be learning to fly them.

“Are they seriously expecting us to just get in those things and automatically know how to use them?” Patricia asked incredulously. “I mean, what do they think we are, baby birds?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her how plausible an explanation that actually was. Instead I shrugged my shoulders and half listened to Daisy as she chanted the protection ritual so there wouldn’t be too many casualties. Hopefully.

I was one of the first to try, and while I did have a bit of trouble actually getting into the helicopter due to the whole “can’t walk because of a tail for legs” thing, Molly Barton hoisted me up.

I apparently weigh about as much as a bunch of grapes. Joy.

The controls of the helicopter actually looked pretty simple. There was a joystick, about a hundred flashing buttons, and some switches, which, in hindsight, might actually not be simple to some people. Luckily, I had read several books on the subject while in the Library, so I had a pretty clear idea of what to do. That, and I worked with machines on an almost daily basis. 

Daisy called out with her bullhorn for us to start up the ‘copters. I found the keys on the dashboard, and twisted them into the slot. This particular model behaved a lot like a car for some reason. 

I heard the engine roar to life, and the sound of Daisy’s unhelpful hints were drowned out as the helicopter lurched into the air, rising quickly above the Scrublands. 

Within moments, it was just me and the sky. Fierce winds whipped around me, blowing my hair in several different directions at once. I blew a piece out of my eyes and gazed out of one of the windows. The Scrublands looked miniscule beneath me; tiny plants and boulders becoming mere specks the higher I flew. Sure, it was loud, but there was a sort of quiet calm so high up; far away from any towns or secret police or municipal weirdness. Call me an introvert (because you’d be right) but it was nice to be alone for once after the past few months of Book Club drills, hostile corpocratic governments invading Night Vale, and strategic meetings. 

A cluster of mountains (and I don’t care what everyone else says, they are too real) rushed toward me, and I quickly brought the chopper down behind them. 

Floating a few feet above the ground was C.J, the ALMIGHTY GLOW CLOUD’s kid. It’s real name was Glow Cloud Junior, but that was a bit of a mouthful. 

When C.J first joined the Book Club, we didn’t really know what to call it. Apparently it’s not really a he or a she, just an entity. I tried to explain the concept of being non-binary to it, but we just stuck with entity in the end. If it worked for the Erikas, it worked for C.J.

“GREETINGS JANICE.” C.J. intoned as I climbed out of the helicopter onto the adjacent rock. 

“C.J., you don’t need to speak in all caps with me, its loud and difficult to connect with.”

“I see. Thank you for reminding me.” C.J. replied, pulsing a deep magenta that I think was it’s form of blushing. “Now, you asked me to meet you here why?”

“Okay,” I said, steepling my hands over the bridge of my nose and leaning forward, “so you know about the whole ‘prevent StrexCorp from doing anything to the town’ thing, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this helicopter is one of the several my troop borrowed from them for this meeting. After the activity is done, they will be returned to the company. I am expected back at the meeting spot in about fifteen minutes. That gives us just enough time to tamper with this helicopter’s mechanics so that it both explodes in Strex’s stupid face, and sets off others to do the same. You get my gist?”

If C.J. could have grinned, I imagine it would have.

“Fully.”  
With that we set to work. C.J. sent out a mindwave to keep anyone from venturing within one hundred feet of where we were working, while I reprogrammed the helicopter.

From what I had gathered off the manuals given out at the beginning of the meeting, each helicopter was connected to all of the others by a wireless system. By rewiring the one I had to explode within a time limit, and then sending out an identical signal through the network, a large batch of Strex-copters could easily be wiped out. 

After figuring out how to tamper with the system, I set the time limit for three hours so the helicopters would explode long after StrexCorp had picked them up. Then, once I was finished, I dropped a copy of Antigone into the gravitational field that surrounds C.J. as a thanks. It hummed pleasantly in reply and flashed turquoise and mauve for a few seconds.

After that display that I still do not know the meaning of, I pulled myself back into the helicopter and flew it back to where the troop was situated. 

Everyone else was already there. I arrived just in time for the ending chant, led by Gwen McSmith, before we all walked (or in my case, was pushed) back to the rec center.

Tamika called me later that night.

“Did you hijack them?” she asked the moment I picked up my phone.

“Yep,” I replied, “the helicopters should be nothing more than tiny pieces of scrap metal by now. It’ll take StrexCorp weeks to churn out more.”

“Excellent.” Tamika said, obviously pleased. “I’m glad we were able to get rid of some of them less than a month after their arrival. Time is precious against a force like StrexCorp.”

“So what now?” I asked. I could hear Tamika rubbing her hands together over the phone.

“Now we can move to phase 4: re-legalizing computers.”


	8. November 16, 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick record of recent events turns confused as Janice questions her feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this chapter out in an afternoon, and I've gotta say, it was really fun to write. Janice is back baby, and will be until the end.

We should not have re-legalized computers. 

The whole situation was a complete fiasco, with Uncle Cecil almost getting killed by a malevolent AI, Megan Wallaby being scorned by the school board for her family’s lobbying, and C.J, getting grounded by it’s parent (who is president of the board) for being part of the whole thing. 

Tamika and I decided to lay low after that, as StrexCorp was no doubt tracking our every move. We dropped by the library on Amnesty Day to return several books, and Ellen Meiknar released a prophecy that accidentally almost got read on-air.

It turned out to just be about a sale on produce at the Ralphs.

Needless to say, it was a surprisingly uneventful few weeks, if one could call any week in this town uneventful.

Then the Lazy Day hit.

People are still feeling the aftermath, and a lesson has been learned by the book club about releasing chemical warfare into Strex-occupied areas with civilians. The gas was supposed to only effect StrexCorp workers, as sort of their own worst nightmare: an inescapable laziness. Unfortunately, it got loose on the whole town (except, oddly enough, Uncle Carlos). 

Time itself stopped for a while, and even I was powerless against the vapors. This is why I am now rushing to put everything down before making up all of the things I now have to get done. I still have six plasma guns to tune up, four books to rebind, and a paper to submit about the effects of radiation on infected wheat and wheat by-products. This is going to be a long day.

Earlier today, I saw The Man in The Tan Jacket. He was sitting on the hood of a minivan outside of the Starbucks, slowly knitting what appeared to be some kind of scarf. It was this ugly mishmash of bright red and light pink that only someone as aesthetically challenged as Uncle Cecil would wear.

I approached him, wheat-free muffin in hand, but I can’t seem to remember what we said. I think he was talking about a city, but the details are vague. I’m working on a device that will counteract whatever thing makes him unmemorable, though it needs a lot of work. 

Something memorable did happen yesterday. News of the book club reached the airwaves, and Uncle Cecil talked about Tamika on his show. Apparently, she challenged some poor reporter to a hundred days of hand-to-hand combat. When this interesting tidbit surfaced, I immediately called her.

“What the fudgenugget Tamika!” I demanded as soon as she picked up.

“Um, your message was not received. Janice, what the hell?” she asked.

“You know exactly what the hell. You don’t just challenge people to fight you for a hundred days!”

Tamika was silent for a full ten seconds before she replied. “I’m guessing releasing the book club on him was a bad idea?”

  
_“Oh my god are you serious.”_

She probably said something after that, but my mind was suddenly occupied by an image of her in the middle of those hundred days, that stupid cocky smirk plastered across her face, ridiculously well-toned arms shining with sweat, a trail of blood trickling down her lip. Thank God she couldn’t see me blush.

Wait...

Dammit. 

This is definitely her fault.

I quickly wrapped up our conversation after that and dove into my fishbowl, bringing the water temperature down to shock me back to my senses. Was I actually attracted to Tamika?

No, that couldn’t be the case. Tamika was a great leader (not that I would ever admit that), and much of our animosity towards each other had diminished over the past few months, but she could still need to have her ego taken down a peg. That and she was way too eager to rush into violent situations. That girl seriously needed to learn the benefits of anger management. And yet…

And yet…

There was this terrible, traitorous part of my mind that wondered what it would be like to care about her the way Uncle Cecil cares about Uncle Carlos. To fight those battles with her, to smile at each other for long periods of time and not feel awkward, to maybe… kiss?

I know some people might say that I’m too young to be thinking about this; that ten years old is a silly age to consider feelings, but I’m just ten on the outside. On the inside, in my brain and my strange, newly grown heart, I’m the same age as Tamika.

I’m twelve, and I’m scared and confused and full of weird feelings that I don’t understand, and under no regular circumstances should I be fighting in a militia, but I am and this is my life! There are so many things I don’t get, and so many that I want to but never will. I’m vice-running a militia, while at the same time trying to figure out how to be mature enough to do this, but still be able to feel like a kid. 

You know what, no. Right now, I just need to focus on taking down StrexCorp. Anything else can wait. Besides, keeping what’s between me and Tamika strictly platonic should be easy, right?

Right?


End file.
